


Good Old Snape

by Badam_Luumsss



Series: One shots [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Death Eater Trials, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Forgiveness, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Male Slash, One Shot, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22632967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badam_Luumsss/pseuds/Badam_Luumsss
Summary: Hours after the Battle of Hogwarts, an exhausted Harry trying to figure out the enormity of what just happened is joined by Draco who's looking for Severus secret stash of Firewhisky in his old office. For once, they opt not to fight and share that dusty old bottle and have a chat instead. Smut ensues.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: One shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696141
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	Good Old Snape

With a creaking noise, the door opened slowly and a slim figure slipped inside the dark room. Harry immediately tensed and raised his wand but the intruder didn’t seem to realize he wasn’t alone. There was something familiar about him. A glimpse of moonlight caught on a flash of platinum hair and Harry realised with a jolt who was standing there. The tall wizard closed the door and leaned against it, unaware of Harry's sitting with his back against the stone wall in the shadowy part of the office.

“Bloody hell” Malfoy sighed, letting his head fall back against the wooden panel with a thud. He appeared to brace himself and went for the desk. Malfoy plopped down on the chair dispiritedly and rummaged through the drawers. He must have found what he was looking for because he let out a satisfied groan.

The tall blond drew out a dusty old bottle and uncorked it unceremoniously with his teeth, tossing the cork with a shake of his head making his hair glint siler before gulping down the amber liquid desperately. Harry could see his Adam apple bobbing up and down rapidly, the white skin glowing under the moonlight seeping through the tiny window.

He exhaled a shaky breath and put the bottle on the dark wooden surface with a loud thud, eyes shut tight.

“Good old Snape” he chuckled darkly and took another generous swig.

Harry should have been angry or at least irked by the blond’s presence, maybe hexed him for form but Harry found he couldn’t care less. He felt numb and hollow. _Probably shock_ , he told himself. That and the frightening lack of sleep of the past few days.

“Celebrating, Malfoy?” finally said Harry with a flat tone. The pale blond jumped and whipped out his wand in an impressive display of reflexes, a hunted glint flashing through his silvery eyes. When he saw Harry, he relaxed a fraction and lowered his wand.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?”

Harry didn’t answer.

Malfoy shook his head and carded fingers in his silky white strands with a smile bordering on insane, irreparably tousling the white mane smeared with blood and soot. He looked a breath away from a meltdown. Then something seemed to snap inside him. He stood, back ramrod straight, still looking dignified despite his sullied clothes and apalling state and stepped around the desk, leaning on the front of the piece of furniture. He observed his hands speculatively then sighed again and grabbed the bottle. Malfoy held it to Harry wearily and raised a white eyebrow in mocking challenge.

“You probably need it more than I do” he said simply “and that’s bloody saying something” he muttered.

Harry looked at the peace offering and the sharp pale face dubiously, trying to detect any traces of malign intent in the Slytherin’s demeanor.

“Bloody hell Potter, just take the damn bottle, I’m not trying to poison you!”

Harry took it and sniffed at the content, just Firewhisky it seemed. He hesitated a moment and frowned.

“Oh what the hell” Harry muttered and inclined the bottle above his mouth.

“That’s the spirit” scoffed Malfoy with a wry and tired smile.

Harry tried not to cough when the liquor burned his throat, his eyes filling with tears as the liquid made his way down in a blazing trail.

Harry gave it back and Malfoy gulped greedily without as much as a wince. Almost impressive. Then the pale blond stared into space with the bottle hanging in his limp hand. They remained silent for a long time.

“Why did you do it?” Malfoy asked suddenly, turning a questioning look to Harry.

“Do what?” Harry croaked.

“Saved me. From the fire.”

“Oh, that” said Harry stupidly “Dunno. Didn’t feel right to leave you there to die, I guess”

“You could have died” Malfoy pointed out with a cold tone and an indecipherable look. Harry shrugged. He was tired of justifying the course of his actions. He was tired of a lot of things.

“Why did _you_ do it?” Harry shot back, searching the steely gaze.

Malfoy raised a brow quizzically.

“At the Manor” Harry clarified.

Malfoy blanched. His head jerked nervously and a curtain of white hair obscured his face, hiding his eyes. That haircut suited him, his hair flowing in silky strands brushing his cheekbones. A real improvement from that slimy blond helmet he was sporting when he was younger. He looked almost human. A hysterical desire to laugh bubbled in Harry’s chest but he suppressed it, confused.

“Same reason I suppose”

Malfoy drank again and passed the bottle to Harry.

◊◊◊

Malfoy slided down the wall to sit besides Harry. He looked a bit wobbly and Harry couldn't blame him. He was starting to feel the alcohol suffuse his tired body with calm and a pleasant bubbly warmth.

Malfoy drew his legs against his chest and rested his arms on top of his knees. His gaze roamed on the room, studying the decor and trinkets that were the only things left from the Potions Master. His patrician features were heavy with grief.

“I think I’ll miss him too” Harry blurted out. He realized with great surprise that he meant it. He was still in shock about the revelations of Dumbledore’s pensine and couldn’t quite grasp that Snape had been protecting him all these years but little by little, it all started to fall into place in his head.

Malfoy looked taken aback by the statement but quickly schooled his features in an impressive blank façade.

“I take it he did work for your side in the end” he said softly, his eyes betraying something raw.

“Yup. Crafty old bugger.”

“That he was indeed” Malfoy said softly. He rubbed his face tiredly.

“What are you doing here anyway?” asked Harry a while later.

“It’s my last night as a free man. Thought I’d get really plastered cause there’s not much else I can do apart from moping around with my parents. And that's bloody not on” he added petulantly, a scathing anger colouring his tone.

“Right.”

“So instead I’m drinking Snape’s old reserve with Harry sodding Potter. I must be truly desperate” he sighed “Now pass me that bottle, will you?”

Harry complied obediently. His head was starting to spin and he was pleasantly buzzing with warmth and drowsiness.

“So you won’t even try to escape or something? I’m sure your parents still have contacts, right?”

“I’m tired of running” he said with a note of finality. “There’s a cell in Azkaban with my name on it and I fully intend to take possession of it and die there pathetically in the next six months”

Harry laughed.

“You did always have a flair for the dramatic”

“Sod off, Potter.”

“You seem weirdly calm about it though”

“I’ve come to terms with it” Malfoy paused and said in a voice so low Harry wasn’t sure he heard it “I got it coming anyway”

“Who are you and what did you do with Draco Malfoy?” Joked Harry, he was already getting merry with the alcohol.

“Yeah well, let’s say the last couple of years gave me... perspective”

“I bet”

“Anyway, what are _you_ doing here? Why aren’t you celebrating with the masses of your adoring fans?” said Malfoy with a sarcastic tone that lacked the usual bite.

“I killed a man. People died. Friends, family” he winced as he was invaded by pictures of stiff bodies laying in the Great Hall, covered in grime and blood. “I don’t see much cause for celebration”

“Well aren’t you a bucket of sunshine, Potter?” said Malfoy absently, passing him the bottle. Their fingers brushed momentarily and Malfoy raised surprised grey eyes to his then looked away. Something fuzzy ached inside Harry.

◊◊◊

“So apart from getting plastered with you sworn enemy, what did you plan for you last big night, eh? If you end up in a cell, you might want to speed along to get nice experiences in store. A last shag behind a tapestry?”

Malfoy threw him an odd look then turned his eyes away.

“Well, I’m not exactly popular at the moment if you hadn’t noticed” he said stiffly.

“What about Pansy, I thought you two were together?”

“Pansy? Hell, no.” he crunched his nose in disgust “there’s nothing wrong with her I suppose but she’s not really my type”

“Aren’t you a little picky?”

“That’s a way to put it” he laughed.

“What, she’s not pure enough for a bigoted prick like you?”

Malfoy shot him an amused look.

“No, she just happens to possess the wrong appendices for my liking”

Harry frowned, not sure he understood the blond.

“Not enough cock, you see.”

“Oh.”

_Oh._

“You… you’re gay?” Harry stammered.

“Merlin, Potter you’re such a prude” scoffed Malfoy, shaking his head with a wolfish grin.

“I’m not! I just didn’t think…”

“… I played for the team?” provided Malfoy snarkily. “Well, I didn’t think you would know. Strangely enough, I try to keep this kind of information private.”

“So, why tell me then?”

“You’re too much of a Gryffindor to use this against me, no matter how much you hate me” said Malfoy gloomily.

“Er… thanks I guess?”

Malfoy shrugged and didn’t answer.

“Does your father know?”

“Let’s steer clear of that thorny subject, shall we?” said Malfoy airily. “I’m sure you can picture my father’s bigotry perfectly on you own without me giving you additional details”

A heavy silence stretched between them for a while.

“You know, you’re wrong” said Harry after a moment. Malfoy’s grey eyes shot and met his with a questioning look.

“I’m afraid you’re going to he to be more specific, the subject stretches rather wide these days”

“I don’t hate you. I haven’t in a long time” Harry said simply.

Malfoy was gaping and it was a sight to behold.

“Had I know I just needed that to shut you up, I would’ve said it earlier” snorted Harry, shooting him a goofy grin. A sense of great achievement washed over him when he saw the corners of his pale lips twitch and mirth sparkle in the grey irises.

Harry looked away.

“I know you were forced into it. You were only trying to save your family. I saw you lower your wand on the Astronomy tower that night.”

Malfoy took a sharp breath but said nothing. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see he was struggling to keep his composure.

“It doesn’t change what I did” he finally said in a breath, his words charged with such raw emotion that it made Harry shiver.

“It doesn’t erase that _thing_ on my arm” he spat in a disgusted tone.

Harry could feel him tremble beside him, hands clenched in fists. He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing more to say.

Impulsively, he took the pale fist in his hand and Malfoy froze. His skin was soft and cold, Harry squeezed the cold flesh sympathetically and placed their linked hands on the ground between them. His thumb was rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand distractedly.

Harry was suddenly overcome by a wave of tiredness and let his head fall back on the wall.

“I don’t hate you either” said Malfoy softly.

Harry smiled.

◊◊◊

"So why aren't you trying to forget all this nonsense in the loving arms of the Weaslette, ô Chosen One?” slurred Malfoy with an impish smile.

Harry winced at the name and looked at the Slytherin critically.

“Trying to live vicariously through me, are you?”

“Blergh, if I picture it I may vomit. No offence but I’m afraid I’m as gay as the proverbial goose” he giggled. Malfoy giggled. Harry frowned, this night was getting impossibly weirder.

“None taken. Ginny and I aren’t together anymore anyway”

“What? Why?”

“We broke up at the end of sixth year. I couldn’t afford the luxury of having anyone they could use against me. And I’m not sure I’m up to pick up where we left off anyway. I know she probably is but it’s not the same anymore.”

Harry felt strange. He hadn’t realized he felt that way before saying it out loud.

“A war will do that to you, I suppose” said Malfoy philosophically with a grave nod.

“Yeah”

With a dramatical sigh, Malfoy swayed a bit and his shoulder pressed against Harry, warm and firm. The sensation both comforted him and made him feel restless. The Slytherin rested his head on the wall, baring the pale column of his neck and a wide expanse of smooth ivory skin.

“Potter, I’m drunk” stated Malfoy dispiritedly.

“Yep”

“I’m horny when I’m drunk” he pointed out.

“Tough shit” answered Harry, warmth creeping in his body. They remained silent for a while, lost in their drunken thoughts.

“Will you visit me in Azkaban?” finally asked Malfoy with a strained voice, obviously attempting –and failing- to sound casual.

“If you want me to, sure” answered Harry with a shrug.

“You’re such a Gryffindor” scoffed Malfoy.

“Fuck you!”

“If you insist” said Malfoy lightly and turned his head to look at him with a crooked grin. Harry felt a violent blush creep through his neck and bloom on his face. He cleared his throat but couldn’t detach his eyes from the playful stare.

“Salazar, you’re actually embarrassed” said Malfoy delightedly “How much of a virgin are you anyway?”

“That’s none of your business!” exclaimed Harry angrily and looked away.

“I see. What a waste” Malfoy sighed theatrically, his eyes roaming lazily up and down Harry’s body with an appreciative glint.

“W-What?” Harry’s heart started beating frantically, blood rushing in his ears.

“Don’t freak out like that Potter, Christ, I’m only joking” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Malfoy” his stare fell on Malfoy’s lips. They were full and paler than his. Harry suddenly wondered what they would taste like. He shook himself internally. What the fuck?

“Potter” said Malfoy in a low voice. He was breathless and his eyes had darkened and taken an intensity that was almost impossible to stand.

“Yeah?” said Harry in a rough voice.

Malfoy didn’t answer but licked his lips in an unconscious gesture. Harry’s heart rate picked up again erratically. What was Malfoy playing at? And what was happening to him???

“I…” started Harry confusedly, his brain already fuzzy with alcohol and that weird sensation that made him unable to look away from the heated grey eyes that bore into him like silver blades.

Before he knew what had happened, he found himself kissing the soft lips tasting like Firewhisky ardently, desperately. Malfoy made a strangled sound and Harry drew back from the kiss. They were both panting hard and Malfoy’s lips were shining with saliva. His eyes were heavily lidded and the sheer hunger he could read in them made him shiver.

“There’s no way in hell you’ve never kissed anyone before” he finally said, making a poor attempt at sounding nonchalant.

“I said I was a virgin, not a monk” grumbled Harry.

“Shut up and kiss me again”

Harry complied and threw himself on the blond, loosing himself in the rush of sensations that burned through him like a wildfire. He was seized by need, his want so strong and raw it was like having his flesh stripped from his bones. Like he was pulled in every direction to breaking point. A groan escaped his lips and Malfoy smiled against his mouth.

Harry slid his fingers through the pale mane and angled the blond’s head to kiss him deeper, licking sensually in his mouth. Malfoy moaned and the sound sent heat pooling around his spine like lava. He kissed him harder and asked for passage.

The Slytherin opened his mouth and answered in kind, sliding his tongue against Harry in a maddening pattern that was setting him on fire, it was nothing like kissing Cho or Ginny. Gosh it was a million times more intense.

Suddenly, Malfoy shifted and the Gryffindor felt his warm weight on his thighs. The blond was straddling him and the thought made his cock twitch. He realized he was already hard, painfully so, the hard length strained against the rough fabric of his jeans.

Malfoy removed his glasses in a gesture so intimate, Harry swallowed loudly, unable to move. Then the pale blond studied his face and raised trembling fingers to his cheekbone, brushing the skin, his jaw, his lips.

With a lump in his throat and his body on fire, Harry caught the elegant hand in his and laced their fingers together. He kissed the blond again with a slow-burning intensity tinged with desperation.

Malfoy moaned again and slipped his hands through the black curls, he kissed him harder, then resurfaced to get some air, panting. Harry kissed his way to his neck, he could feel his pulse jumping under the soft iridescent skin. He licked and sucked the flesh and tasted sweat, smoke and blood on him.

“Fuck…” choked Malfoy under the assault of Harry’s mouth “definitely not a monk…”

Harry smiled and kept at his ministrations. He felt warm hands roam over his ruined t-shirt, brushing his nipples and sending shivers raking everywhere on his overheated skin. The Gryffindor couldn’t help a loud gasp when Malfoy deftly rocked his hips, his hardness brushing Harry’s deliciously, sending sparks in his loins and flooding his brain with scalding-hot blood.

Harry kissed Malfoy roughly and started undoing his ruined black shirt frantically. Frustrated with his fumbling fingers, he finally ripped it open, eliciting a feral groan from the blond who tugged at his shirt with demanding hands. Harry let him remove the sorry piece of fabric. His eyes raked over Malfoy’s torso glowing in the cold silver light, all nervous lines and sharp angles. Harry froze and licked his lips, transfixed by the sight of the tense muscles, the trim hips and pebbled nipples.

“Merlin, Potter…” said Malfoy in a breath, devouring him with his starving eyes before kissing him again. The blond fumbled with the fly of his faded jeans, and Harry’s hands hesitantly brushed at the laces in Malfoy’s dark trousers. The blond pressed his hips against his hands, urging him to go on. The last of Harry’s hesitation vanished and he complied happily. His mind, fuzzy with exhaustion and whisky, finally surrendered to the earth-shattering want that filled every fiber of his being.

He wandlessly banished the offending pieces of fabric between his hands and Malfoy’s skin and was rewarded by a low wanton moan. The Slytherin ripped his fly open and his cock sprang free, twitching and desperate for attention. The long fingers wrapped around the hard length, Harry groaned deeply and his hips stuttered from their own volition.

“Lube?” asked Malfoy breathlessly, holding his hands and Harry slicked them with a flick of his will. Malfoy kissed him brutally and tugged at his cock teasingly. Harry’s hands clutched the narrow hips in a bruising grip, hanging on for dear life in the storm of sensations raging inside him.

Harry’s right hand flew to the other boy’s cock and it throbbed. Precome had started to trickle down the shaft, lubricating his back and forth motions. He felt the pale blond tense and relax, the pale body vibrating with want. Harry nearly fainted when he realized what Malfoy’s other hand was up to. They were still linked by their brushing lips, the puffs of their panting breaths ghosting on their lips with strangled muffled sounds of pleasure.

“Do you want me?” asked the pale blond in a breath. His eyes were liquid silver and more alive than Harry had ever seen them.

“Fuck yeah…” Harry managed to answer.

When Malfoy positioned himself above Harry’s twitching cock and rested the soft patch of tender flesh on the tip, Harry was afraid he was going to come just from the touch and the sight. He closed his eyes and breathed in shakily, sucking air into his lungs desperately.

Then a searing heat swallowed his cock slowly, deeper and deeper, tight and wet and _oh so fucking good_ -

“Malfoy… God you’re so tight…” he trailed off.

When Harry was buried to the hilt into the hot channel, the Slytherin paused and rested his head on Harry’s tanned shoulder, unmoving, his flesh quivering around the hard shaft.

“Malfoy, are you… hurt? Do you want to stop?” asked Harry, praying he would be strong enough to actually manage to stop if Malfoy asked him to.

“Draco? Do you…?”

“Shut up and fuck me, Potter” Malfoy cut him off with a voice like gravel and rocked his hips, turning Harry’s answer in a confused babble, the rush of pleasure turning him completely incoherent.

Harry thrust in rhythm with Malfoy’s sway of hips, meeting him with filthy noises of flesh crashing against flesh and willing his climax away as hard as he could. His right hand was buried in the silky white strands and the other one held Malfoy’s hipbone like a lifeline.

His head was filled with words that had long lost their meaning, _yesyesyesyessogoodyesfuckfucksogood_ , like a chant or a prayer, and there was no way to tell if he was saying that out loud or not but the hell if he cared. The pain was gone, the hollow-numb-coldness inside him was gone, he was alive, more alive than he had ever been and the only thing that mattered was the taut body against his and the rush in all his senses.

Malfoy’s fingers curled like claws in his shoulders and his head fell back. _So beautiful_. _So perfect._

“Yes, yes! There, just there!” sobbed Malfoy, as if he was on the verge of crying “Just stay right there…”

Harry thrust harder, trying to ignore his own climax building around his spine like an implacable wave threatening to drown him.

“Yes! Oh fuck, Harry, yes!” he cried as warm ropes of come coated their quivering torsos.

At his name so wantonly invoked by the pale, full lips, Harry emptied himself in the clenching tightness around him, a strangled cry stuck in his throat. He buried his face in the damp platinum strands and wrapped his arms around the lithe body tightly, overcome by a raw emotion he couldn’t quite place.

Harry was half-convinced he had lost consciousness for a moment when he realized Malfoy was gingerly caressing his bare back, brushing the nape of his neck and delicately carding his fingers in the jet-black hair.

◊◊◊

The vapors of Firewhisky had dissipated in the cold hours of the night, when they laid in a tangle of damp limbs on the rug transfigurated into a thin mattress, covered by their cloaks. Despite the welcome blankness in his head and the calm seeping through his bones with the even breathing of the boy snuggled against him, Harry didn’t fall asleep. He studied the sharp beauty of the man he had just given himself to.

He felt like the very ground under him had crumbled, leaving his world upside down. First there had been Snape’s death and his memories that had shed a new light on everything Harry thought he knew. He found out he was the true master of the Deathly Hallows and that he had to die. Then he saw Sirius, his parents, Remus. He could still see their silvery figures in the dark forest. Then he died. Saw Dumbledore. And came back.

And now this. The boy he had hated for years, the one he had almost sliced in two a few months ago, the boy who had lied to his family to save him, the one he had then saved in turn was now lying naked in his arms, trusting him in his sleep. Harry thought he should have been upset, revolted or at least confused. But he wasn’t. It made sense, in its own twisted way. And he hadn’t felt like this in months, maybe years? Like he belonged. Like he was actually part of the living. Like it was something that was his, entirely his and solely due to his own choices and free will for a change, not to an ominous prophecy or an old spider weaving his web around him. Like it was something pure, raw and real.

Malfoy frowned in his sleep, wrinkling his pure features. Harry was so close he could see his lashes were as pale as his hair and brows but almost black at the base. His nose was straight and his cheekbones high and sharp. In sleep, he looked vulnerable and softer, so removed from his usual haughty and cold persona. His lips were full and rosy, swollen from their rough kissing. Harry slipped his hand in the white-blond hair once more. At places, they were matted with blood or undefined grime and Harry couldn’t imagine what he himself looked like. The pale skin was marred by cuts and bruises, dried blood and soot. Harry thought he had never seen something so stunning. Malfoy’s pale body had an eerie and unearthly look, like a magical character from a tale.

When the light of dawn seeped through the tainted panes of the small window, Malfoys started to stir and Harry turned his head embarrassedly. He didn’t want to be caught staring for some reason.

They stood up and started dressing again with slow, languid movements. Malfoy’s grey eyes were slightly unfocused, as if he couldn’t believe he was really awake. He was buttoning the shirt Harry had summoned back and repaired when the morning light tinged his hair golden and made his skin gleam like pearly-white velvet.

The beauty of the scene took Harry’s breath for a moment and he froze, unwilling to break the spell. He suddenly remembered calling him Draco a few hours earlier and blushed. Malfoy must have sensed that something was off because his eyes shot to his, a white brow raised quizzically. Harry smiled easily despite his hot cheeks and Malfoy’s eyes shone bright for a moment, then his face went abruptly shut and his gaze cold.

“We should go back” he said blankly, looking at the floor, his lips a thin line.

“Yeah” said Harry though he wished that moment never ended. He wasn’t ready to face what was outside this room. Here he was safe. Outside he would be bare and exposed, like his skin had vanished and left him raw, sensible to any touch.

Malfoy raised his chin, bracing himself for perspectives that were no doubt much more bleak, and opened the door. He paused in the doorstep, facing away from Harry, the tense line of his shoulders like an insurmountable barrier and his knuckles turning white on the frame.

“Goodbye, Harry” he said softly, then he was gone.

◊◊◊

Malfoy stood besides his mother, his silhouette like a dark shadow in the stone halls of the Wizengamot. His pale face and platinum hair contrasted wildly with the crisp and black three-pieces muggle suit he was wearing. His back was stiff and his jaw clenched, he was obviously ready for anything coming his way. Except for a confident Potter suddenly showing up and asking for a word in private. Bewilderment flashed in his flint-grey eyes for a second, mirroring the alarm in Narcissa’s pale blue irises.

With a reassuring squeeze of the hand and a tight smile for his mother, he followed the messy-haired wizard.

“What are you doing here?” asked Malfoy warily.

“I came to testify on your behalf and your mother’s” answered Harry simply, holding the icy-cold grey gaze serenely. Malfoy didn’t avert his eyes but nothing showed on his frozen features. A long pause stretched between them.

“Look Potter, you don’t have to do this like some kind of reciprocation for… you know”

His composure slipped and Harry finally saw what was inside the fragile shell. He saw pride and vulnerability, self-loathing and shame, an overpowering guilt and a fair amount of pain.

“It has nothing to do with it. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do, nothing else” said Harry firmly and there was metal in his voice.

“It won’t change anything” answered the pale blond evenly, his blank features back in an instant after the slip-second of openness.

“We’ll see about that now, shall we?” said Harry with his cockiest smile, eyes sparkling with challenge. He left Malfoy in a state of deep confusion, staring with wide eyes at his retreating back draped in dark high-collared formal robes.

“The trial will begin shortly begin, take your seats” boomed an old stern wizard in purple robes, startling him out if his reverie.

◊◊◊

“So… Now that you’re a free man and all, would you like to have a coffee with me sometime?” asked Potter after he caught him at the end of the trial, a goofy grin painted over his straight features.

“Potter, you’re absolutely barmy” said Draco, slowly shaking his head in disbelief, pale as death. He didn’t think his shock over the verdict could get worse. Of course Potter had to prove him wrong. By asking him out, apparently. What a fucking weird day.

“In a good or a bad way?” asked the dark-haired wizard with a shy smile.

“Merlin knows…”

They ignored the dozens of people passing around them in the dark-tiled corridor and eyeing the scene curiously.

“Is that a yes, then?” Potter asked again carefully. He was obviously feeling very self-conscious, and Draco felt something churn pleasantly in his chest.

The pale blond shot him a small smile and it was the only answer Harry needed, he grinned back like a bloody idiot.

Maybe things wouldn’t be that bad after all.


End file.
